


The Crackpots, Two Schuylers, and Burr

by thelittlelion



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, The West Wing
Genre: Alexander fucks up - as usual, Burr isn't amused - also as usual, M/M, West Wing AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 06:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7924273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlelion/pseuds/thelittlelion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many years ago, Andrew Jackson, America's 7th President, had a two-ton block of cheese in the White House foyer that everyone was welcome to eat. </p>
<p>Alexander really should know better than to mix his least favorite gimmick with a bet against Angelica Schuyler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crackpots, Two Schuylers, and Burr

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt on tumblr: 
> 
> Anon asks: Congrats!! I don't know if you're still taking prompts, but if you are, any hamburr thing inspired by the west wing would be super rad! (if you're not taking prompts anymore sorry for the bother and congrats again! you super deserve it)

“Unless your name is John Church and you’re my assistant you better not try to hand me that.”

Alexander jerks his file back with a frown, jogging to keep up as Angelica Schuyler’s tall heels eat up the floor beneath her. He’d caught her first thing through the doors, hoping to get a word in before the news of the day had a chance to turn her sour. Judging by the scowl on her lips, he’s at least several hours too late.

“Angelica, please,” he tries again. “This is important. If you could just _peek_ at the notes – just for a second.”

She doesn’t even glance at him. John Church falls into step as they shuffle past the main security desk, taking Angelica’s depleted Starbucks and coat in exchange for a bursting briefing folder and a fresh thermos. Alex doesn’t miss the way her lips twitch.

“Thank you, John.”

Her assistant gives a small smile, startling when Alexander suddenly turns on him, thrusting his file at the man.

“John, my good man! If you could just hand this file to my esteemed colleague? Apparently she’s developed a Tony Stark complex this morning and will only take offerings out of your hands.”

Five perfectly manicured nails pierce into his arm, yanking him back. Angelica smiles sweetly at her assistant.

“Ignore him. It’s what I do.”

John Church sends Alexander a wincing glance, but scampers off before Alex can get another word in. _Traitor._

“Well, he’s not going to last,” he marks, turning back to her. He rubs his bicep when she releases him. “No sense of daring. No zeal to please. I bet he actually _sits_ at his desk all day and _works._ ” He snorts.

“Leave that one alone,” Angelica warns him firmly. “He’s mine.” She pauses, hiding a wicked smirk as she takes a sip of from the thermos. “And he pleases _me_ just fine.”

_Oh ho?_ Alexander raises his eyebrows, twisting to catch a glimpse of the assistant’s retreating ass just before he disappears behind a desk. His head tilts. _Not bad._

“But he’s so _boring_ ,” he complains, turning on her.

“Not everyone aspires to live as hectic a life as you do.”

“As _we_ do, you mean.”

She glances at him sharply. “Thank you, Alexander. For a moment, I almost thought I could speak for myself. What would I do without you?”

He winces. “Sorry.” When her gaze moves off, he takes a breath, soldiering on, “But are you _sure_ I can’t just – ”

The words die in his mouth as they turn their way into the main lobby. There, sitting on a pedestal in the middle of the shining floors, lies Alexander’s single most hated national gimmick.

“Angelica, _please_ tell me there isn’t a giant cheese wheel sitting in the White House lobby.”

Angelica follows his gaze. Her mouth draws down. “Alexander, we do this every first of the month.”

Alex scoffs. “Please! We didn’t do it last month – _or_ the month before! We do this whenever Von Steuben decides to torture us. It’s both cruel _and_ unusual.”

“It’s one day.”

“It’s a waste of time!” His exclamation startles a flock of nearby interns, sending them reeling out of the way as they walk by. “Can you honestly tell me you _like_ meeting with Captain Tin-hat of the U.S.S. Moonbeam when you should be, I don’t know, spending time running the country?”

“Your faith in our nation’s constituents is truly inspiring, Alexander.”

“Hey,” he says, drawing up. “Give me one example of when this day turned out to be actually useful and I’ll eat my words.”

They step out of the lobby, taking the direct path to Von Steuben’s office. Ahead, Alex spots Lafayette and Laurens stepping through the door – the later looking at him funny when he notices his company, brows rising high on his forehead. Alex shoots him a pained look, but can’t do more before Angelica’s voice draws him back.

“Deal.”

“What?”

She looks at him, something challenging playing across her face. “If today’s meetings turn out to be completely useless, as you say, I’ll okay whatever ridiculous speech you worked up this time. If you change your mind, you have to stay off twitter for an entire week. No call out posts. No vague tweeting. Nothing that doesn’t come directly out of my office with my personal seal of approval.”

It’s a deal far too aligned in his favor – especially since she didn’t mention his Facebook access, something she must know. Alexander stares at her suspiciously, but can’t read past her smirk. They reach their Chief of Staff’s door, Angelica looking at him expectantly.

“Well?”

“Fine,” he agrees, regretting it the instant her expression sweetens, “but you’re as bad as them if you think these crackpots are going to convince me.”

Her smile’s enigmatic. “It’s really not the crackpots you should be concerned about.”

 

*

 

Alexander perches on an armchair next to John Laurens, bumping shoulders while pretending not to smirk at Angelica across the room. John’s picked up on on his energy, glancing between the two of them with open anticipation, but Alex just shakes his head, gesturing with a nod that he’ll explain the meeting’s over. He can’t help but grin as their Chief of Staff continues handing out Cheese Day duties, holding his assignment, _The Society for the Promotion of English-Speaking Workers,_ close to his chest.

Thinly veiled Neo-Nazis. That’s who Alexander is challenged to find something redeeming about. He’d get to tear them apart _and_ win the bet all in one fell stroke.

As Von Steuben continues on, Alex can feel his grin grow.

“ . . . and last we have the New York Women’s Association for At Risk Youth Education. Angelica, I’d imagine you’d like to take this one. Next up, we have the French Ambassador stopping by after lunch. Lafayette, my dear, if you’d – ”

“Actually, sir, if I may?”

Alexander’s smirk slides off as Angelica speaks up, frowning when Von Steuben turns to her with a serene expression. While the Chief of Staff had no qualms about calling the rest of them a host of pet names and staring at them as if they had peed on his carpet when things went wrong, Von Steuben had the annoying policy of addressing Angelica as if she was the only other adult in the room. She was also the only person besides the president that he’d heard call Von Steuben by his first name and live to tell the tale.

Predictably, the Chief of Staff raises his hand, gesturing her ahead. “Of course, Dr. Schuyler. You have the floor.”

Angelica smiles at him, side-eyeing Alexander triumphantly. “I was just thinking that Alexander would be a better match for the Women’s Association than myself. My perspective may be skewed.”

Von Steuben frowns. “That’s nonsense.”

“Yes, really, that _is_ nonsense,” Alexander adds quickly, glaring at her. “I’m sure the Women’s Association would _love_ to speak with the nation’s first female Press Secretary.”

At his side, John snorts. Von Steuben shoots him a flat look.

“You’re on my list, Laurens. Is there something you want to share with the class?”

John reforms his expression quickly; shaking his head hard enough Alex can feel the wind of his curls. “Of course not, sir.”

On his other side, Lafayette sniggers. “John was just saying how much he agrees with Angelica, sir,” he grins. “Alexander can be _quite_ a hit with the ladies.”

The remark earns him a kick in the shin from John and a scowl from Alex.

Von Steuben frowns. “Watch it,” he warns. John scowls.

“How come _he’s_ not on the list?”

“Because it’s my list,” Von Steuben snaps, cowing him. Lafayette, meanwhile, perks up, grinning smugly at this new game. Angelica steps in before he can say anything more.

“Really, Friedrich. I’m certain Alexander can handle it.”

The Chief of Staff stalls, clearly at odds. He glances down at his notepad thoughtfully. “Oh, but I thought – ”

“I just don’t want it to seem like the White House is pandering to these women,” Angelica insists again. “They should get the same treatment as everyone else.”

_Check and mate_.

Alexander slumps, knowing he’s been defeated before the sentence even ends. He meets Angelica’s victorious eyes as Von Steuben confirms it, clenching his jaw.

_Fine_. _Two can play it that way._

 

*

 

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Then stop thinking. This is your fault, Laurens. You traitor.”

John draws back in mock outrage. “Me? What about _him!_ ”

He points at Lafayette, who’s smirking a step behind them.

Alexander shakes his head. “ _He’s_ not on the list.”

John grimaces, falling back in step with the Frenchman behind them. “You’d think I murdered his cat or something,” he mutters.

The Deputy Chief of Staff’s smirk is filthy. “Maybe our little lion has already met these pussies, no?”

“Cats. The word is cats,” Alex grumbles, as the two men behind him laugh. “Which you already know,” he adds, rolling his eyes. “You two are disgusting. Honestly, do you ever get sick of sucking each other’s faces?”

“No.”

They high-five each other while Alex groans.

He stifles it as he turns the corner and sees an unfamiliar duo standing outside his office. Their wide-eyes ogling the bustle of the bullpen mark them out as visitors, though he might have known that by the fact that they’re standing still. One of them, a pretty black-haired woman, spots him, round face breaking out into a broad smile. _Crap._

“Your appointment is here, Alex,” announces Lafayette, voice a singsong stage whisper. “Come, John. Let us leave Alex to his _very_ _important_ work.”

“Don’t forget her number,” John hoots, wiggling his brows in a leer. “You’ll need it for the _paperwork!”_

The men peel off snickering, while Alex reigns in his scowl. He plasters on a polite smile as he nears the strangers, extending out his hand.

“Alexander Hamilton. You’re my Big Cheese meeting?”

The woman blinks at him, startled. “Pardon?”

_Good God, she_ is _lost._ “You’re from the Woman’s Association?” he tries again.

At this, she nods. She shakes his hand, surprisingly strong for all the gentleness in her face.

“Yes. The New York Women’s Association for Homeless Youth Education,” she clarifies – unnecessarily – out of step with the regular flurry of the West Wing. She turns to the thin, well-dressed man standing behind her, arms loaded down with a hefty file box. “This is Aaron Burr, my associate,” she introduces. “And I’m Elizabeth Sch – ”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to cut you short,” Alexander says, cutting her short. He looks at his watch, exaggerating his scowl. “I have another meeting I need to get to – a scheduling mistake. We’ll have to make this quick.”

Elizabeth’s smile freezes, dimming. Her eyes flicker to Burr whose eyes study him narrowly. “Oh, but we can only meet this morning,” she says, twisting her hands.

“As I said, there was a scheduling mistake,” he lies again. He ignores the guilty twinge as her smile disappears completely. He looks instead at her companion, finding it easier to meet the thinly veiled resentment growing on his face. It’s a handsome face, he notes, though its sharp features are turned against him. Pity. “I’m afraid I can’t reschedule. Step into my office. I assume you’re ready to begin now?”

He doesn’t wait for them to answer, sitting down at his desk and steepling his fingers together expectantly. The pair hesitates in the doorframe, exchanging looks. Elizabeth’s smile is brittle when they finally step into his office, Burr glowering at him as they take their seats across his desk.

“Sir, we were told you’d be available now.”

Alexander turns to Burr, raising his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, and you were?”

“Aaron Burr,” the man repeats. “I volunteer at the shelter.”

“Ah,” says Alex, grinning. Being a dick has always come easily to him – and he can’t say he minds the way Burr’s eyes narrow. “You’re just here as the muscles, eh? Practicing for those heavy purses at the mall?”

Burr’s expression shutters. Elizabeth’s mouth pinches. Alex almost wished Angelica was here to see him now.

“Aaron has been with us for many years,” Elizabeth says, tightly. “He’s invaluable.”

“I’m sure,” Alex agrees, eyeing the other man. He’s not bad looking. Alex can see why they’d keep him around – and why he’d stay, he thinks, looking back at Elizabeth. Even affronted, the duo aren’t unattractive. “You were saying?”

He watches her take a breath, turning to her companion with a tense smile, recovering herself. “If you’d give Mr. Hamilton our first proposition, Aaron.”

Burr gives a tense nod, reaching into his box for a file. Alexander waves him off when he goes to hand it to him, earning himself a glare. “Sorry. It’s a _very_ busy day,” he stresses. “Can you just give me the highlights?”

“The highlights?” Burr repeats, dully.

Alex nods, flapping his hand. “Just sum it up for me, will you?”

He almost expects the man to punch him – it’s what he would do. Instead, Burr’s breaks out into a thin smile. He’s written _fuck you_ into line of his body. His bared teeth are as welcoming as a wolf’s. Alex is almost impressed.

“Certainly, sir.”

Alex hides his grin as Elizabeth begins outlining their program, nodding along with one eye on the clock. Movement behind Burr distracts him, pulling his eyes down to find John’s face smirking at him through the window of their adjoined offices.

He scowls, waving at the woman to continue when she catches the expression and stumbles. He yanks open his desk drawer, listening with one ear until his fingers brush against what he’s looking for.

_THWAM!_

The red rubber ball strikes the window with a satisfying rattle, both of his guests jumping clear out of their seats. Elizabeth cuts off sharply, aghast, while Burr just glares, composing himself with an open scowl.

Alex smiles at them, standing up.

“Sorry about that. It’s just how we signal it’s time to go around here. I’m afraid I’ll have to cut this meeting short. Be sure to leave me the notes though. We’ll get back to you as soon as we can.”

The woman’s eyes are wide, a pink flush rising up on her ears. If she’s taken aback, her companion seems only more pissed off, glaring at Alexander savagely. His lips are curled into a sneer – Alex finds the fury on his face much more appealing than his previous reticence.

_What a productive meeting_. Alexander gathers his files, smiling pleasantly at them both, almost striding out of his office before he remembers.

“I almost forgot!”

He reaches around to his desk, plucking out two pens and thrusting them at Elizabeth. “Here are two complementary White House pens – you’ll notice the Presidential Seal. Thank you for taking the time to visit us today. Be sure to visit the gift shop on your way out.”

The choking sound Burr makes is worth the reaming he’ll get if Von Steuben ever saw him.

He turns back around, waiting until he’s out the door before smirking. He flips off John off as soon as he exits his office, seeing his deputy grin at him through his window.

He meanders down the hall, whistling, already rearranging his schedule for more important things.

See how Angelica likes _that!_

 

*

 

“ _Alexander Hamilton!”_

“Ah, if you’ll excuse me for a moment gentlemen.”

Alex pushes back his chair, calmly smiling at the irate woman glaring at him through the door to the Roosevelt Room. He steps out of his meeting smirking.

“Angelica. How are you? I’m a bit busy at the moment. If you want to let John know whatever you need, I’m sure he’ll be happy to help. He didn’t look busy.”

The Press Secretary’s face is a picture of barely restrained anger. He yelps as she grabs his arm, dragging him away from the windows – and witnesses.

Despite the pain, Alexander smirks. “Come on, Angelica. You can’t blame me. How _did_ you’re meeting with the Neo-Nazis go, by the way?”

“You _ass!_ ” she hisses. “You’re lucky I don’t go to Von Steuben right now.”

Alex shows his hands, shrugging. “Hey, don’t hate the player, hate the game. You started this. I don’t know what you were expecting.”

“I was expecting at least a modicum of maturity from you,” she snarls. She steps back, releasing him, dragging her hands through her hair and down her face. It’s a soothing gesture that ends with her wrapping her arms around her waist.

Alex’s smirk abates, good humor dying when he studies her real distress.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

She turns back, anger better restrained, though still perfectly clear. It simmers in her tightly controlled tone, the threat of explosion imminent.

“That was my sister, you ass.”

“What?”

“My sister,” she repeats, almost snarling. “ _Eliza_. The woman you just completely blew off.”

Alexander gapes. “Why didn’t you _say_ anything?”

“She didn’t want any special treatment,” Angelica states. Her tone shows how stupid she thinks that is. “She _barely_ let me get her in today.”

Alex has heard Angelica talk about her sisters before – everyone has. She’s always raved about them, taking the time to answer their phone calls and send them emails even through the grueling press of their workday. Unlike many, Angelica never had a problem prioritizing her family. It was clear she valued her family more than anything, even her fancy White House job.

Alex doesn’t have to read the disappointment on her face to know what she’s thinking.

“Oh,” says Alex.

“Yes, _oh_.” Angelica mocks, before slumping. “I promised her she wasn’t an idiot for coming to the White House, Alex. I told her people would take her seriously. Where does that leave me as now?”

“I’ll fix it,” Alex promises quickly, sobering up. “I swear. Leave it to me.”

Angelica takes a deep breath, straightening. When she looks at him again, he can see she’s tucked away all of her soft parts, leaving a piercingly sharp stare.

“You’d better,” she warns, jabbing him in the chest. “Fix this, Alexander.”

She spins, stalking out. Alex listens to her heels depart, rubbing his chest, before turning back to his meeting frowning. The budget committee will just have to wait.

 

*

 

The ban on running has taught the White House staff near Olympian skills in fast walking. Alex comes skidding into the bullpen, almost bowling over a startled John and nearly knocking down his arm full of papers.

John squawks, righting his stack with a scowl, but Alex doesn’t have time to apologize.

“Is she still here?” he demands.

“Who?”

“Elizabeth Schuyler! The Women’s Association!” He throws his hands up when John just blinks at him. “Never mind! Just move!”

Alex rounds the corner to his office, leaving his friend behind. He relaxes only slightly when he sees a figure standing in near his office, recognizing the slim shoulders of Aaron Burr. He’s holding the same box from before, talking to one of the interns with his back to Alex. Dread fill him at the lack of Angelica’s sister, but he’ll take what he can get.

Alex hurries over, smoothing down his tie as he does, trying to look at least semi-presentable as he approaches. He sees the intern’s eyes widen as she catches sight of him, face paling.

“Here’s Mr. Hamilton now!” the intern squeaks.

“Now wait just a minute - ”

She scurries off, ignoring the way Burr leans in after her.

It’s a smart move. Alex turns on a beaming smile, crossing the remaining distance in three long steps.

“Mr. Burr! Just the man I was looking for! Is Eliza with you?”

Burr stops, turning to face him with a scarily blank expression. Maybe riling him up before was not the best strategy.

“You aren’t leaving already, are you?” Alex plants himself before the man, placing his hand on Burr’s arm. He retracts it hastily when Burr’s glare turns on the offending limb, searing him. Alex laughs, wincing at the high pitch it comes out in. “I’m sorry. I just escaped my meetings. Are you ready to begin now?”

Aaron Burr is not taller than him. He should not look as intimidating as he does when he glowers at him.

“Excuse me, Hamilton,” Burr says icily, “I’m afraid Ms. Schuyler had to depart. Our afternoon is quite booked.”

He goes to step around Alex, only for Alex to step in his way.

“Well, why are you still here?” he scrambles, playing for time.

It’s apparently the wrong thing to say. If possible, Burr’s face closes even more, staring down his nose at Alex until he truly feels like an idiot.

“ _I_ am here collecting the rest of our data,” Burr explains loftily. “Or, as you might put it, I’m here carrying the heavy boxes.”

Alex winces. He drops his smile, letting the schmooze ease out of his voice. “I didn’t make a killer impression did I?”

“No,” Burr says, looking down his nose at him. That just not fair.

“And if I apologized profusely?”

Burr’s expression is ice. “Men like you don’t apologize, they weasel.”

“Ah.” _Shit._

Burr hesitates, expression stony, before he continues. “Unfortunately, Ms. Schuyler is a better person than you. She asked me to leave these with you.” He hefts his file box, shoving it against Alex’s chest until he takes it. Alex feels his breath leave out of him in an _oomph,_ Burr being none too gentle.

“Unlike me, _she_ seems to think you might actually care.”

His doubt is palpable.

Alex sags under the weight of the box, glancing at it dubiously. He _really_ doesn’t have time to go through it, even if it weren’t a Cheese Day assignment. Burr can clearly read the thought on his face.

“As I thought,” the man mutters, turning away.

Alex hesitates, looking down at the box in his arms. He has what he needs. Burr isn’t the one he needs to impress anyway.

It doesn’t seem to matter.

He turns, dropping the box just inside his office before hurrying after Burr. He catches the man just as he steps out into the lobby, though he doesn’t wait even when Alex calls after him. He stumbles on after him, trying not to be too obvious as he hisses Burr’s name.

“Burr! Hey, wait just a minute – _sir!”_

He’s too loud. It earns him several stares and the twin sneers of two nearby Senators, but it does the trick. Burr’s footsteps jerk to a stop, his shoulders slumping though he doesn’t turn around.

Alex ignores the looks, almost running until he gets in front of Burr.

The expression on his face is long suffering. Alexander’s been the recipient of such a look since the day he was born. It’s lost the ability to faze him.

“What do you _want,_ Hamilton?”

“Listen, Burr – Sir,” he amends quickly at the storm on Burr’s brow. “We got off on the wrong foot. I’d like to make it up to you.”

Burr says nothing. Staring at him in silence.

Alex soldiers on, tipping his lips into his best smile. He drips on the sincerity, hoping it’s enough. “Honestly, I’m sorry for the way this morning worked out. Would you believe me that I’m trying to fix it? If I could have your support, I know we could work something out.”

Burr just raises his eyebrows at him, inscrutable.

“I see.”

Alex doesn’t. He stares at Burr’s face, trying to get a read on him, but the other man is frustratingly opaque.

“What do you say, are you willing to start over?”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that Angelica Schuyler is Eliza’s sister?”

Alexander winces. So much for subtly. “I admit, that plays a small part.” He grins weakly.

At last, a crack appears in Burr’s façade. He huffs, giving Alex his shoulder as he walks away.

“Incredible.”

Alex frowns, giving chase after him, but Burr only walks faster, ignoring Alex’s attempts to get his attention. An unwitting lobbyist approaches Alex at the exit. By the time he manages to shake her off, Burr’s already stepped outside of the building. Alex stumbles after him, cursing as the sun light assaults his eyes. He nearly runs into the other man’s back when Burr stops abruptly.

“You really have no shame, do you?” Burr sneers, turning on him.

Alex takes a step back, grinning even as he shakes his head. Burr’s led them out into the open. There is not way he would have stopped until Alex was going to get his way.

“Not really, no.”

Burr pinches his nose, taking a deep breath before staring down at him – _down_ (again!) though they’re the same height. Alexander _needs_ to know how he manages it.

“Look,” he says, straightening his spine. “You’re right. I’m doing this mostly because of Angelica. _Does it matter?_ You need support and I work for the White House. Why should you care _why_ I decide to help you?”

The words sound callous even to him. It’s not that Alex _doesn’t_ care about personal motives – he’s normally the first to expound on the lack of solid stances in politics – but if there is one thing he’s learned since coming to DC it’s to worry about the end result over the means.

For a long moment, Burr just stares at him.

“Goodbye, Hamilton,” he says finally. He turns, stalking away without a further word.

This time, Alex watches him go, slumping. He stays on the sidewalk, trying to ignore the strange disappointment that’s wriggled into him.

He has _no_ reason to feel shamed. Burr would understand if he were in Alex’s shoes.

He tracks Burr’s shoulders until he disappear down the street, ignoring the urge to follow after him. He needs to get back to work.

He turns around, heading back into the White House, trying to ignore the way John stares at him as he enters back into the bullpen, eyebrows raised.

“So on a scale of one to ten how much do you think that man hates you?”

“Fuck off,” Alex mutters.

He lets himself into his office, dropping down into his desk with a sigh.

_Eleven._

 

*

 

“Alexander, a word.”

Alex hangs back, wincing as the rest of the senior staff troops out of the oval office. He fiddles with his hands, turning back to face the president.

“Sir?”

Even sitting down, Washington cuts an intimidating figure. Alex comes up to his desk hesitantly, trying not the let the guilt show on his face. As always, there’s a mixture of anticipation and dread that churns in him when Washington’s heavy gaze cuts to him.

“Von Steuben tells me there was an incident with one of your meetings today.”

Alex nods reluctantly, squaring himself. He can still hear the Chief of Staff’s lecture ringing in his ears. Office gossip travels too fast.

“It was just my Cheese Day appointment, sir,” he says carefully.

Washington’s stare is hard. “I understand it Angelica isn’t pleased with you either.”

“Yes, sir,” he sighs. “I’m fixing it.”

“See that you do,” Washington nods. Alex breathes a sigh, thinking that is all.

“Yes, sir.”

He turns, heading for the door. He’s relieved, grateful to have gotten off so lightly. It’s never easy to tell whether he would be dealing with Washington the stern and distant President or the kindly history professor who’s wife made him homemade meals when he was still a starving undergrad.

At times, the disparity made his head spin, though he admits disappointment from either side bore a strong bite.

“And Alexander?”

Alex halts, feeling his stomach drop. He turns, finding Washington stare still on him, rebuke sharp in his eyes.

“Sir?”

Washington’s brows rise. “Look down at the carpet.”

They’ve played this game before. Alex slowly drops his eyes to the seal underneath his feet, the eagle holding war and peace in either hand.

“Now look back at me.”

Alexander looks up. The President’s face is stern, brow storming. “When you have an appointment in his building it is never _just_ an appointment – even when it is not a Schuyler sister.”

The admonishment is clear. Alex swallows, feeling the guilt squirm in his stomach.

“Yes, sir.”

Washington nods. “That’s all. You’re dismissed.”

Alex flees the oval office, ears flaming. The President’s Body Man looks up as he exits, frowning when the door closes too loudly.

“Sorry,” Alexander winces.

Mulligan is unimpressed – and merciless. “Angelica is looking for you,” he says. Alex freezes, glancing around nervously, doom tricking down his spine like ice.

“Which way?”

Mulligan’s stare is flat – unflappable in way someone who has near constant access to the President must be. He jerks his thumb to the left.

Alexander sighs, immediately turning his feet in the opposite direction.

“Thank you.”

Mulligan’s disapproving gaze follows him all the way down the hallway.

 

*

 

He sneaks back to his office.

It’s the only way to it if he wants to survive the night with all his limbs attached.

He escapes his last official meeting just as the sun is setting, slumping into his desk chair after drawing his the curtains closed. He let’s his head drop into his hands, massaging at his skull.

Angelica’s distress hangs over him in a gray cloud, muting the satisfaction he usually feels at the end of a long day. He can’t shake Burr’s dismissal either, though he knows he shouldn’t care. He doesn’t need the approval of some volunteer to salvage this problem with Elizabeth Schuyler.

The thought doesn’t help.

With a sigh, he pulls up her scarce Wikipedia page, following the links to her foundation’s website. He finds a number at the bottom of the screen, underneath a picture of a host of smiling kids.

He blows out his cheeks, glancing at the clock.

He’s done for the day. He really should be heading home.

Alex dials the number with the sigh, forcing cheer into his voice as the line is picked up.

“ _You’ve reached the New York Women’s Association. Most of our offices are currently closed. How may I direct your call?”_

“Yes, hello. I’m trying to reach Elizabeth Schuyler.”

_“I’m sorry, Ms. Schuyler is currently out of the office. Would you like to leave a message?”_

“No, wait.” He hesitates before deciding a little name-dropping can’t hurt. “This is Alexander Hamilton – from the White House. Do you have another number where I can reach her? It’s very important. I need to contact her as soon as - ”

“ _Alexander Hamilton?”_

There’s a noticeable climb in pitch as the voice across the line squeaks. Alex grins in smug relief. He loves it when that works.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, that’s me.”

“ _One moment please.”_

There’s a click. Alex leans back as the line begins to ring again.

“ _Hello?”_

The new voice is low, male, and definitely not Eliza.

“Hello!” he says quickly, not letting his disappointment show. “Yes, this is Alexander Hamilton. I’m from the White House. I’m trying to reach Elizabeth Schuyler.”

There’s a pause – then:

“ _I see.”_

Alex feels his skin shiver at the familiar drawl of those two words. He blanches, sitting up suddenly.

“Mr. Burr!”

“ _Mr. Hamilton.”_

Now that he’s identified it, he can picture Burr’s closed face, thin lips pressing tightly around low, unimpressed words. Alex fumbles for his response, thrown off course.

He defaults into schmoozing. “I’m so glad I reached you. I really do regret not making our appointment today. If there is anyway for me to get in touch with Ms. Schuyler I would love to apologize directly.”

His words do nothing to move Burr, whose answer is made all the more scathing by the polite words it’s carried on.

“ _I’m afraid Ms. Schuyler has gone home for the day.”_

“If you could give me her personal number. I’m _sure_ she’d like to hear back from us.”

“ _No.”_

Alex grits his teeth. If Burr is trying to out stubborn him he’s in for a stark surprise.

“Well, maybe I could schedule another appointment?” he offers. “How does tomorrow morning sound? I can clear my schedule. Really, I’d _love_ to meet with her again.”

There’s a pause on the other line. Alex let’s himself perk up cautiously.

“ _Did you even read the proposition yet?”_

“Yes! I’m looking at it right now,” he lies, eyeing the box at his feet warily.

“ _Because I would hate to take up more of your time tomorrow,”_ Burr continues. “ _We wouldn’t want to waste it.”_

Alex chuckles nervously, hearing the warning in Burr’s voice.

“Of course not. So, how about tomorrow morning at nine?”

There’s another pause. Alex holds his breath, letting it out in a great gust when Burr finally responds with: “ _I’ll see if she can squeeze you in.”_

The tension leaks out his spine. He let’s himself relax, grinning genuinely into the phone.

“You’re a treasure, Burr!”

There’s a beat, then Burr’s voice returns, a key lower than before.

_“Your persistency, while annoying, has been noted,”_ he finally says. _“And I shouldn’t have faulted you for caring about the ends over the means.”_

Alex winces. “No, you were right,” he admits. “You have every right to care why a person is supporting your organization.”

_“Yes, well – talk less, smile more, I suppose.”_ There’s something inherently lyrical about the praise. Alex’s lips quirk.

“All’s fair in love and war.”

_“And politics.”_

“And politics.”

His laugh mingles with Burr’s low chuckle over the telephone. Alex spins his chair, catching a glimpse of himself on a mirror hanging on the wall. His own smile startles him, stopping the sound short in his throat. For a moment, Burr’s amusement all he hears.

He looks at his own smile and frowns.

He _knows_ that’s smile. To see himself wearing it here, now, without even being aware of it…

He straightens up, brow furrowing as he does, listening to Burr tapper off.

“ _Hamilton?”_

“Call me, Alex, please.”

“ _Alex,_ ” Burr repeats, mulling over it. Alex doesn’t mind when he doesn’t offer his own.

He braces himself, deciding to take the plunge.

“Listen, Burr, since we’re such good friends now, how would you feel about meeting over coffee to discuss the rest of your proposal?”

There’s a pause.

“ _Are you asking me on a date?”_

“A work meeting,” Alexander grins, teasingly. He’s buoyed by the lack of instant rejection. “How about tomorrow – noon? I know a great place nearby.”

Burr hesitates.

“ _I work tomorrow.”_

“Volunteering?” Alex asks, grinning still wider. “Honestly, how’d you end up working for a Schuyler? You don’t exactly fit the bill.”

_“The bill?”_

“I just mean, you don’t exactly fit the profile for a Women’s Association.”

There’s a pause. Alex winces when he hears his own words – but it’s too late. Burr’s voice comes back through the phone, devoid of its previous warmth.

“ _You think only women should be concerned with the education of our youth?”_

“No, of course, not - !”

_“Or maybe you think that education for our capital’s poorest children isn’t something we should all be concerned about.”_

“That’s not that I meant – ”

_“Or is it that because I am a man I should feel ashamed to join an organization run by powerful women?”_

“No!” blurts out Alex, too loudly. “Wait! That is definitely not what I was trying to say! Look, I’m sorry!”

His words are lost against the sudden cut to dial tone. _Fuck._ He thinks about calling back, but he doubts Burr will answer his phone again.

Alex groans, tossing his phone away. His eyes roll to the file box on his desk, then up to the rapidly dwindling daylight outside his office.

_Right._

_*_

Running into a smirking Lafayette is never a good sign for his morning.

“You’ve been busy,” his friend drawls, falling into step as they cross the lobby.

Alexander glares balefully at him, grimacing as his coffee burns down his throat. Whatever. It’s worth it. As much as he hates it – he’s no longer capable of pulling all-nighters with no consequences. He clutches his cup like it’s his last lifeline.

“What are you on about?”

Lafayette raises an eyebrow. “You have not seen the pretty woman standing inside your office yet?”

Alex jerks. “She’s here?”

Lafayette nods, smirking. “She does not seem to be smiling today,” he adds. “Did you do something to upset her already?”

“Go away,” Alex complains, pushing the other man aside. He picks up his feet, scurrying down the hallway.

He reaches his office at a breakneck speed. Relief mingled with surprise floods him when he recognizes Elizabeth Schuyler standing just inside his office. He should not be as disappointed as he is to see that she’s alone.

He hurries forward. She doesn’t smile when she sees him.

He pushes open the door to his office quickly, stumbling over his feet on the threshold, splashing hot coffee directly onto his suit. He curses, jumping back, even as Elizabeth gawks at him.

“Are you alright?”

He waves her off, wincing as he sets down his coffee. He strips out of his jacket quickly, reaching for one of his spares hanging in a corner.

“I’m fine. Sorry. This happens all the time.”

“I see.”

She’s just as icy as Burr this morning, drawing back now that she sees he’s not been hurt. Alex swaps his jackets, turning to face her with a desperate smile.

“Ms. Schuyler, may I just say how glad I am to see you,” he begins. “I am so sorry about our meeting yesterday. Thank you for taking the time to come back in again.”

“Of course,” she says lightly. She pauses, examining him as he squirms. For the first time, he can see the family resemblance.

“Ah, if you’d like to begin now?” he tries. He gestures at his desk, wishing he’d bothered to clean it up after last night.

_Not so good of a second impression either._

Her eyes flicker over his desk, Alex blushing when he realizes she staring at her own folders spread out across the surface. She glances up at him, eyebrow raised.

“Actually, we’ve set up in a separate room. If you’d follow me.”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, turning on her heal and stalking out the door. Alex follows helplessly along, blushing when she seamlessly navigates her way through the twisting halls. He’s been such an idiot.

He’s unsurprised when they pass Angelica’s office, catching sight of the woman’s dark warning gaze through the window. He grimaces, nodding back, before stumbling after her sister. At least he _might_ not be castrated.

Eliza leads him into a spare meeting room already dimmed and projecting the beginning of a presentation against one wall. Alexander has to squint when he comes in, almost missing the man who stands at the projector, crossing his arms when they come in.

Burr says nothing as they enter. Alexander barely holds his tongue.

Burr won’t look at him, fiddling with the projector. Alex can scarcely read his expression in the dark. The words of an apology bubble up on his tongue.

He bites them down. He takes the seat in the front obviously meant for him, reluctantly turning his back to Burr when Eliza moves to the front.

Eliza grins down at him, shark like. Alex shivers.

“Let’s begin, shall we?”

 

*

 

“ – And this is the central lobby, which you’ve obviously seen before,” Alex finishes, with the flourish, grinning when Eliza smiles graciously.

“It was an excellent tour,” she grants him. “Not quite as informational as my sisters, but hers didn’t include quite as many yelling staffers following us either.”

Alex grins, sheepish. “There’s a reason the Communications Director doesn’t handle the PR.”

“Yes, I’m beginning to see that.” She holds out her hand, shaking his firmly. He’s warmed by the return of her easy smile. “Thank you for the meeting.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I get the funding approved,” he promises her. “No later than two days.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Eliza smiles.

“Can I walk you back to your sister’s?”

She shakes her head. “I know the way. Thank you again for taking the time.”

“Of course.”

He watches her leave, finally letting himself relax. He turns, heading back to his office. There’s something he can’t shake – a feeling that something’s unresolved. He finds out exactly what when he turns into his office and finds Aaron Burr standing inside.

He swallows, closing the door as he enters. Burr stands up face neutral.

“I thought you’d left,” Alex says lamely.

Burr shrugs. “I had to finish packing,” he says, gesturing to the box beside him. He’s been shoveling in the files that Alex had left out. Alex flushes despite himself. “As you can see, I’m still carrying around Eliza’s purse.”

Alex grins wilts. “I’m sorry,” he says. When Burr doesn’t say anything it slides off all together. “I took some of your files home. I can bring them by your office tomorrow when I drop off the paperwork.”

Burr’s face hardly changes. His brows lift, examining Alex neutrally. “You’ve read them?”

Alex winces. “Well, no. Not all of them,” he admits, deflating even further. “I didn’t get through the case files before 2011 and I skimmed most of the charter.”

“I see.” Those are quickly becoming Alex’s least favorite words.

He ducks his head, skirting his way around Burr to his desk.

“I can get them to you sooner, of course. If you need it.”

“That would be appreciated.”

“Right.” He’s not actually expecting that. “Of course. I can send them this afternoon.”

“Actually, I was thinking right now.”

Alex looks up. Burr’s face is open, staring at him expectantly. Alex fidgets.

“I – yes, alright. Let me just call up a courier.”

“Actually, I was thinking you could give them to me yourself,” Burr says. When did he step into Alexander’s space. He has to crane his neck to look up – and _how does Burr always_ do _that?_ Their proximity throws him. It takes him a second to recognize Burr is still speaking.

“Over lunch, maybe? It’s nearly that time now.”

Alexander gapes. Burr’s face remains elusive, but there’s a slight tilt in the corner of his mouth that taunts Alex. It takes him several seconds to recognize that smirk for what it is. Burr _flirting_ with him. His brain jerks into overdrive.

“Really?”

_Or maybe it’s just crashing._ His voice comes out far too high.

Burr’s smirk grows. “Yes, really.”

“I – yes,” Alex flounders. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “Yes, of course!”

Burr’s teeth catch the light. He reaches over, pulling Alex in by his suit. Alex forgets to breath when Burr pulls on his tie, tightening it into some form of dignity.

“Of course, I’ll have to get my files eventually,” he drawls. “Why don’t I come over tomorrow night? Around seven?”

He pulls the knot of Alex’s tie. The noise Alex makes is too embarrassing to be recalled.

“ _Seven sounds fantastic_!” he squeaks.

Burr’s grin is predatory. He releases the tie, smoothing his hand down Alex’s suit before pulling back altogether. Alex absolutely does not lean in after him.

“Perfect.”

_THWAM!_

Alexander jumps, hands sending several files scattering to the floor.

He gapes at Burr, who smiles calmly, bending over to pick up the rubber ball rolling innocently away from the window. On the other wise of the glass, John’s smirk freezes, though not before Alex catches him giving a massive thumbs up.

“That is how you end a meeting around here, isn’t it?” Burr says, smirking. “Or start a new one.”

Alexander can feel his laughter piling up. He stands up, pecking Burr on the cheek before his courage deserts him.

“That’s exactly right.”


End file.
